Shake Your (Cotton) Tail
by lifeinahole
Summary: Because Easter egg hunts can totally lead to smutty adventures, right? Really, I just wanted a reason to put Emma in a bunny costume. Captain Swan smutty one-shot.
_Give me an inch, and I'll run a freakin' mile. Written because pompeiiablaze on tumblr is an enabler, but really I would've probably written this without prodding. Rated M, despite the fluffy appearances at the beginning._

* * *

"So we're hiding eggs. From the Easter Bunny?"

Emma hums out an affirmation from a few feet away where she's diligently hiding the bright plastic eggs in question. While Henry is firmly in the "non-believer" category, despite being the Truest Believer, there are still plenty of children who still wake up on holidays believing that their treats have been delivered by some magical creature. And while it's not entirely impossible that these creatures truly exist, they are still creeping about town hiding eggs for the youngins to find later during the Storybrooke egg hunt.

"Then why the bloody hell is the deity a rabbit? We have them searching for eggs, would it not make sense for it to be the Easter Hen?"

"No. No, it's not actually about the bunny, Killian. It's actually about Jesus."

"Oh! The man you're always cursing out?"

"Je – no. Yes. Well, kind of. But I'm not really cursing _him_ out, I'm just – "

"Relax, love. I've read your Bible. I know who the man is. Also, isn't one of those commandments about taking the Lord's name in vain?"

She pinches the bridge of her nose, fully pausing in the task of placing a green egg on one of the chairs on Granny's patio. He reaches out to stroke her hair in an attempt to sooth where he's just riled her up, but she speaks before he even makes contact. She turns to him as she does, and he knows what that expression on her face means.

"Do you want the sexy bunny costume later tonight or not? You're bordering on 'not' territory right now."

"Sexy bunny costume? I promise to be on my best behavior for the rest of the day if it means I'll find out what the bloody hell that is." He finally completes his intended gesture, his fingers sliding through her hair, and he has to resist pulling her close, resist burying his face in the strands that smell of the shampoo she just used a few hours prior. Instead, he tugs on the strands gently, just once, before releasing them and wandering to the front of the building to nestle some eggs in the bushes.

Sundays are normally reserved for lazy mornings in bed, and that ritual was taken away from him this morning, replaced with a bright basket, confections stuffed in the eggs, dangling from his hook as they wander from public space to public space. The children will be crawling through the area in just an hour's time, and he's looking forward to witnessing this event, as much as he's afraid of the children running amok and consuming sugar by the handful. Knowing that his love has something in store for him later gives him something to look forward to, however.

When the time comes, all of the children of Storybrooke get into the hunt, baskets swinging from their fingers much like his had been from his hook as they comb through every inch of the main street to find every single egg the adults had taken care to hide earlier that day. Roland triumphantly holds up the one Killian watched Emma place on the chair, his cheeks dimpling as he crows with delight. Even Henry ends up snagging two or three, happily munching on the treats inside as he supervises the whole ordeal. At fifteen, he's shining more and more as a pillar amongst the younger crowd, giving them someone to look up to, and Killian beams with pride when Henry somehow manages to single-handedly herd a group of five to ten year olds to the next section.

"They're pretty cute, huh?" Emma asks from her spot next to him. Killian smiles after them, the whole lot looking like goslings following behind their gangly teenaged leader.

"That they are, love."

"I got you something to get you further into the spirit of things."

"Oh?" She had disappeared a short while back, appearing again a few minutes later but otherwise not indicating her reason for leaving. This, it appears, was the reason why.

The next thing he knows, Emma is placing a pair of rabbit ears on top of his head. They're furry, and he's sure he looks comical with them on, but Emma just gives him a sweet smile and pushes up on her toes to softly kiss his cheek. After looking around real fast, she leans up further to whisper in his ear.

"Save those for later. That way we can match," comes the soft murmur, and Killian is suddenly trying to think of anything else, as he's fairly certain that erections are unwelcome in such company.

The perfect distraction comes along in the form of the egg hunt ending, and all the children flocking back to Granny's for a town-wide meal. He manages to clear his mind, instead enjoying the festivities and the time with his family and friends, and the buzz of excitement and sugar flittering through the air.

There's only one moment where he fails at keeping his thoughts pure, and that involves a chocolate egg with cream filling, as he watches Emma bite off the top of the egg and surreptitiously dip her tongue inside. She must sense his eyes on her, because she meets his gaze and turns a beautiful shade of pink when she realizes he was watching her. She repeats the motion one last time, her tongue scooping out the remaining portion of cream filling, and then she winks before popping the whole chocolate shell in her mouth.

While he loves Henry, he is relieved when Roland begs him to come back to the mayor's house for the night. It's entirely possible that the lad had a heads up to go to his other mother's house, though, because he doesn't even put up a fight. He hoists Roland on to his back, giving the boy a piggy-back ride on their way out with nary more than a "Happy Easter" and "Love you guys!" called over his shoulder as they leave.

-x-

When they make it home, Emma ushers him to the bedroom, telling him to sit tight before she heads straight for the bathroom. He's instructed to not remove his ears, and while the band is starting to dig into the spots behind his ears, he's fully willing to do whatever she asks of him.

It feels like he's waiting hours before the door opens again, and she appears, and he honestly has no idea how to handle all the various reactions his body has to the vision that she is. She's wearing a black satin bodysuit, similar to the garb she wears for swimming, except the straps are replaced with clear ones to hold it up. At the bottom, two garter straps connect to a pair of thigh-highs, ending with very high heels on her feet. The satin ears on her head match the fabric of the bodysuit, and one is jauntily folded down. This realm has such an odd sense of what will stimulate, but this is something he knows he's seen before, and he just can't place it. It takes a minute before the proverbial lightbulb goes off in his mind.

"That looks an awful lot like the costumes the lasses wear in the magazines that Henry hides beneath his mattress."

"His _what?_ He has what? How do you know this?" The look she's wearing goes from seductive to incredulous in the space of a heartbeat.

"Don't you know by now that pirates always find the hidden booty, Swan?" She snorts at the turn of phrase, but still takes a moment to compose herself after the new information.

"For the record, fifteen year olds are gross. And I'm going to pretend you didn't tell me about what you found. Got it?"

"Got it. Now, turn around and let me see you shake that little tail, love."

Her eyebrow goes up, a smirk playing at the corner of her mouth. "You think you're calling the shots here?"

"Not a bit. Just humor me?"

She rolls her eyes, the look not detracting from the overall picture in the slightest, but she turns around, looking at him over her shoulder as she shakes her behind a little. The fist-sized puff of cotton moves with her, and he's mesmerized. Killian is astounded by the fact that it's not how sexy the move is, but how adorable he finds it. With care, he hides the smile and laugh, and motions Emma closer. The way she slinks over to him, extra sway to those hips, her calves looking firm and perfectly shaped beneath the fishnet tights thanks to the stilettos on her feet… His mouth goes dry at the sight.

"Sit back, Captain, and relax for a little bit. Hold on to your bunny ears," she tells him, making sure the plastic and fur are firmly affixed on his head and he's resting against the headboard. In one smooth motion, she's kneeling astride his thighs, one of the stilettos pressing into the fabric of his jeans just below his knee. His hand and hook automatically come up to her hips, but she firmly pushes them back down to rest on the bed, waggling a finger in front of his face.

"No touching until I say so," she instructs.

He's eye-level with her bosom, and he takes a moment to appreciate the swells of them right before eyes. The bodysuit, or the undergarment beneath it, is pushing them up, making them appear even fuller than he knows them to be, and he longs to let his forehead rest between them for a moment.

His attention is diverted from where he stares when Emma slides a hand into his hair, pulling until his head is angled up to look at her where open and pure desire shines brightly in her eyes. She places her other hand on his cheek and uses her position above him to control the kiss she places on his lips. That simple meeting of lips morphs into much more, her mouth opening hungrily against his, and Killian happy to meet her inch for inch.

This time, when his hand comes up to her hip, she doesn't stop him. She pulls back, waiting for something from him like waiting for him to get the punchline of a joke, and it probably takes his fingers trailing over the soft fabric to start understanding. With purpose, he runs them over her hip again, searching for hemlines and seams, but all he encounters is smooth fabric with no interruptions.

"Swan, just what are you wearing underneath this silly costume, love?"

She grins knowingly, her overall expression to be marked in the column for 'naughty' come Christmas time, and if he weren't already hard beneath her, then this certainly would've done the trick. She grips his hand, leading it down to the space between her thighs, and he can make out the feeling of snaps in place of where a seam would normally be. With a sharp pull, the snaps give and he can immediately feel the warmth of her flesh beneath his fingers.

"May I?" he asks her, his eyes glancing down to where his fingers are teasing along her folds before looking back to her eyes.

"You may," she says, voice husky and low, just one step above a whisper and the authority evident.

He doesn't hesitate, then, before sliding a finger into her. It sinks effortlessly all the way to the knuckle, her breath shuddering out at the sensation. "More," she demands, and he slides the first finger out to add another, while he repositions his hand so his thumb can find her clit. He thrusts his fingers, circling his thumb as both digits curl inside her body, and her forehead falls against his. "So good," and she does whisper this time. There's something to be said for living centuries with one hand; he's definitely learned what to do with it.

Even though his erection is straining in his pants, he pushes his own pleasure to the back of his mind, focusing wholly on giving Emma everything she desires. He wants to see more of her, wants to touch and kiss and nibble. So when she indicates with a nod of her head that he has permission to continue exposing more skin, he brings his hook up to draw one clear strap down her shoulder while he licks a line just above the fabric covering her left breast. When the right side is down, he moves his mouth to the other breast while he finagles the strap down without stopping the motion of his fingers inside of her.

With the straps down, he drags the bodice of the one-piece down, revealing the brassiere beneath, and he flicks his gaze up to her again.

"I can either stop what I'm doing," he tells her with a firm slide of his fingers and a press against the spot that makes her moan aloud, "or I can rip that expensive undergarment with my hook." Her pupils are blown wide in pleasure, and he doesn't cease any of his ministrations so she's panting even as she laughs and snakes her arms behind her back to unhook the closures. She's barely gotten it off before his mouth closes around a nipple, knowing the exact pressure to bite in order for her to trip closer to the cliff of her passion.

She clutches his hair when she comes, keeping his mouth on her breast as she rides out the passion above him. He knows precisely how she looks, her head tilted back as she sucks in a breath, holding it until the fluttering of her walls and her body clenching around his fingers eases up, her eyes closed and her cheeks flushed. When her hands loosen their grip, he moves to lean back again at the same time he slowly pulls his hand away. She shudders once at the sensation as she eases herself down to sit on his thighs.

Killian can't help but admire her radiance, the suit now bunched at her waist from where it shimmied down during. She's smiling, a lazy thing that looks sated but nowhere near satisfied for the evening. While she catches her breath, he takes a moment to detach the garters holding up the stockings. She sits up again to allow his access to the straps on the backs of her thighs and her fingers drift to the buttons on his vest and shirt.

With the garters no longer attached, the bodysuit rides up when she sits back, and he feels that the cotton tail now sits a few inches above her backside. Neither of them makes to take off their ears, though, even when they start shifting around to remove the rest of their clothes. Emma touches the top of one of the thigh-highs and Killian makes a noise, knowing that she'll get the hint that he wants her to keep those on just a little longer.

She spends a minute adjusting the tops of the stockings while Killian struggles to shuck his tight black jeans, her smile giving away that she knows he's struggling but she appears unaffected as she lays back on the bed, propping herself up on one elbow as her body stretches out on top of their bedspread. Killian takes an extra moment to loosen the straps on his brace, placing the whole contraption and hook on the bedside table before he slides back onto the bed with her. He's sitting back on his haunches, and although he notices the hungry look in her eyes as she looks him up and down, he takes a moment to lightly flick one of the ears on her headband.

"This was an awfully cute idea, Swan."

"I thought you'd enjoy it," she tells him, moving to kneel in front of him and mirroring his position.

"My education of the land you grew up in may never end, but you always find a way to make it _so_ enjoyable, love." He winks when he says it, and she snorts. Her arms wind their way around his shoulders, one hand traveling into his hair to rake her nails along his scalp.

"You'll have to teach me some of your holidays and customs sometime," she murmurs, taking a moment to kiss along his jaw before her lips return to his.

"They're mostly celebrated – _ah_ – much like this." His thoughts are interrupted when she draws her whole body closer, trapping his cock between them.

"Then _show_ me," she tells him. He's careful when he urges her to lie back, conscious of the heels he requested she keep on as he settles between her open legs. He runs his hand up one shin and over her knee as his wrist travels the other, enjoying the sensation of warm skin in between the weaves of fabric. She clearly enjoys it as well, arching off the bed as he reaches her thighs.

It's a matter of sliding forward after that, sinking into her as a perfect fit in the welcoming heat of her body. As always, he attends to each of her needs, listening not only to her pleas but paying close attention to each move she makes beneath him. As his thrusts get harder, sink a little deeper, her legs wrap around him. One of the heels falls off her foot as it alternatively points and curls, but the other digs into his backside as she pulls him closer and closer. He leans forward that little bit more, resting on his elbows to get that little bit lower and making sure that he's rubbing against her clitoris with each thrust.

Between the two of them, there are praises, encouragements, things that might be words, but also might just be wordless appreciation, expressions of love, of lust, of _keep going_ and _so close_ and _harder_ and _yes, just like that_ , until Emma's pulling him down for a breathless kiss, her hands clutching at his shoulders as she falls over the edge and he's helpless to do anything but follow after her with shallow thrusts accompanying his orgasm.

The satin ears have fallen completely off her head, resting instead on the bed just above her, and he can feel his own tilting down, nearly resting on his forehead at this point. She notices this just as he does, her smile this time appearing utterly satisfied as her breathing slows.

"So," Killian starts when he's flung the ears off to the side, "what's the next holiday we'll be celebrating?"

"Well, I think the next major one is the Fourth of July, but I don't think it's wise to bring fireworks into the bedroom." She kicks off her other shoe and finds her own ears to toss off to the side. As she reaches for one stocking, he slides the other one down her leg and hands it over. They end up wherever everything else has, but they're much more concerned with getting under the covers at this point.

"I do believe we make plenty of fireworks all on our own, love."

Her sleepy laugh is punctuated with a large yawn, and he kisses her softly, murmuring his goodnights and his affirmation of his love. She returns both sentiments as her face nuzzles against his neck. He's nearly asleep before something must click in her mind.

"Fireworks on our own," she mutters, readjusting to fall asleep on her back, her hand tangling with his underneath his pillow. There had been a time, a night when in the heat of passion Emma set off a miniature display of fireworks in their bedroom. He once told her he would never let her live it down, and has subtly reminded her of the incident no less than five times by this point. "Smartass."

The smile he falls asleep wearing is well-earned.


End file.
